


Sunday Morning

by HistoryEnthusiast



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Death, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Sadness, alexander visiting john's grave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 13:41:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9823088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HistoryEnthusiast/pseuds/HistoryEnthusiast
Summary: Alexander visits John's grave every few Sundays, to tell him about how his life is going.





	

"Laurens."

Alexander spoke quietly as he kneeled in front of the grave, setting a few beautiful red roses down. "Only the best for you." The man giggled to himself, a sad smile appearing on his lips. John, his dearest friend, is dead for months now, and Alexander can hardly accept it. He's still eagerly waiting for his letters every week, mistakenly asking Eliza if a letter from South Carolina has arrived, only for her to remind him that the end to it has come. He still sits on the chair in his office, on that creaky wood that became comfortable after not moving for hours, he wishes to feel John's arms wrap around him from behind, he wishes to feel his breath on his neck, to hear his voice, even if it was lecturing him about not resting properly. 

"It was a busy week, my dear."

Alexander didn't pay attention to his surroundings, that no one was around him. He was alone, talking to a grave. 

"Eliza's stomach grew bigger again, haha! I will be a father again! How I wish you could meet Philip, he would adore you.. And you would love hearing all the other kids running around the house. It's lonely when it's quiet."

He wiped tears from the corners of his eyes, trying to keep his voice sounding normal, not shaky, nor cracky. 

"I swear Eliza can't get the smell of your paint out of the room that was once.. You know, ours.. I still have notebooks you left there on my nightstand, full of your beautiful drawings of streets, flowers, animals.. I even found my face in there a couple of times, you should have told me!"

The man laughed, his smile shaky, teeth chewing on his bottom lip. 

"Sheets stained with paint and graphite, canvases hung on the wall or in the corner of the room, your pencils under the bed and under the furniture... You were quite an artist.. I don't want that smell to go away."

Alexander's eyes were focused on the grave in front of him, just a stone.. Oh how he wished he could see John's face, grab his cheeks and hug him so so tightly. 

"I wish I still woke up beside you, your warmth.. I miss the way you would laugh at my sore body when the morning came and I couldn't even stand.

"John.. Lafayette misses you so much.. Did my obsession with success ever annoy you, I wonder? Did you even feel neglected while I was working, did you ever get sick of me—" he started to cry, chocking on his tears while trying to hold back. For a second, he swears he could have felt John's fingers caressing his cheeks, just like he used to when Alexander cried in front of him shamelessly. "You didn't send many letters, but those you send I read over and over. Oh, how I wish I told you how much I love you until you left me like this.."

He swears he could hear John's humming voice with the blowing wind. His body tensed up, his chest hurt, his eyes burner due to so many tears falling down. 

"My dear lover.. I miss you so much.. I want to succeed for you, if not for me." 

This is how he broke every time he would visit the grave, rambling on how much he misses John, crying with the comfort of no one, before calming down and talking about the congress, the politics these days, all the sandals and peiole that annoy him. 

He would stay there for a couple of hours, spending some time in silence, hoping that John would just walk up from behind him, refusing to accept the fact the light of his life was dead. The one he truly loved so much was gone.


End file.
